


Drumfred Abbey

by Bardwich



Category: Downton Abbey, Victoria (TV)
Genre: Car Ride, Crossover, Drumfred 1920s AU, Drumfred AU, F/F, Honourable mentions of Henry Paget and his leg, Hurt/Comfort, Kisses, M/M, One Night Stands, Promiscuity, Victoria ITV/Downton Abbey crossover, Walking In On Someone, crackship, gal pals, it starts with a bang, it's a Drumfred fic duh we gotta talk about Papa Paget's leg, meaning totally lesbian wives just being perfectly okay in their castle thank you, rose is bi, you love to see it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:48:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26063743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bardwich/pseuds/Bardwich
Summary: It's 1923 and Edward Drummond has been invited to stop at Downton Abbey on his way up to Scotland. A wrong door and he gets the sight of his lifetime, which makes his stiff collar feel a bit tight all evening. Can Lord Alfred make sure the handsome politician doesn't think ill of him?
Relationships: Charlotte Drummond (fl. 1800s)/Cecilia Wyndham Paget, Drumfred - Relationship, Edward Drummond (1792-1843)/Alfred Paget (1816-1888), Thomas Barrow/Lord Alfred Paget
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	Drumfred Abbey

**Author's Note:**

> This comes as a result of a Downton rewatch with the outrageously talented @SheoftheBookandSong. We had a silly crackship idea, we had a giggle, we hope you will, too. It's silly and fluffy and hey, Lord Alfred in the 1920s would be an absolute riot. Enter Drummond, clutching his pearls. Hilarity ensues.

It was raining cats and dogs up in Yorkshire. Edward Drummond decided not to let his sister, Charlotte, give her a ride on the boat up to Scotland but earn some good points with his boss, the actual Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, Stanley Baldwin, and travel north by train. He was keeping a tight schedule, making a few stops here and there to lobby, before enjoying a week off at home, in Scotland. One of these stops was Downton Abbey, near Thirsk.

He was invited to dinner by the Earl himself, whom he had met in London during the season at Lady Rose’s ball. Lord Grantham didn’t turn his nose up at the _nouveau riche_ , having married an American heiress. Alas, Drummond was going to be terribly late. The summer showers came down particularly mercilessly and the train had to stop for safety. How would he change, especially without his own valet, in time for dinner?!

The station was closing up but a nice girl helped him out—smiling ever so brightly at him despite the late hour, how kind!—and he was able to get a cab. He overpaid the driver and hopped out of the vehicle almost forgetting his suitcase on the backseat.

A tall man with a prominent nose and impressive eyebrows let him in through the front doors. Drummond could see there was already a large party gathered in a central hall decorated with crests along the balustrades. What a building! He was offered a footman’s help to get him changed but he declined, not wanting to disrupt the evening that was well underway. He asked the butler to instead tell him where he might find his room.

Up the stairs, the men’s corridor to his right, the very last door. Up the stairs… the men’s corridor… the last door… there were two doors at the end, facing each other. Neither was an inch closer to the end of the hallway.

He heard noises from one of the rooms. Figuring every gentleman had already gone down to the cocktail party long before his arrival, he gingerly opened the door behind which there ought to be a valet who could direct him—

Goodness, was he correct!

‘Ahh, my lord!’ a tall, dark-haired servant cried as he was bent over the end of the bed while a completely naked blond man thrust himself against him from behind!

Drummond shut the door as swiftly as he’d opened it, stunned!

Although in reality he was looking at a particularly ornamented vase with a monstrous bouquet sticking out of it, he was still seeing in front of his mind’s eye far more vividly the comely shapes of that “lord” covered by smooth, alabaster skin, glistening with sweat, and the muscles in his buttocks tightening with every thrust—

The latch turned. Drummond fled into his own room before he was seen.

How his heart was beating! He had been grumbling about the rain before—how on earth would he tame his hair in this humidity?!—but its cooling effect was welcome in this most unnerving moment! He still had his back pushed against the door of his tidy bedroom. No one was in here, doing… all sorts of things, on his four-poster bed.

He heard creaking and footsteps in the corridor, which reminded him of the time. Goodness, it was late. He realised he had to march on, change into his evening clothes as fast as he could, put some more product on his hair to make it behave, and go downstairs.

Downstairs, where he would surely be expected to hold his tongue and socialise and perhaps even converse with this blond lord that he had just seen… well, he had seen too much of him! God, he wondered whether he shouldn’t just make up some excuses, go back to the station and go on his way, and forget this ever happened.

Why was he then still thinking about those muscles and that skin, when he had buttoned and tied everything on his attire? He felt rather unnerved, yet excited to go down.

He had no choice, he had to hurry before he offended his host. He just reached the bottom of the stairs in time to be introduced before they all went into dinner.

‘Mr Edward Drummond, Esquire,’ the butler announced to the whole lot in his deep, baritone voice.

‘Ah, Drummond!’ the Earl of Grantham rejoiced at once, shaking his hand kindly. ‘You made it! Come meet Mr Branson, my son-in-law, and Cora, my wife you’ve met at Lady Rosamund’s.’

‘How do you do, Lady Grantham?’ Drummond said in greeting and kissed her hand.

‘We wondered whether you’d got lost, poor thing,’ she said sympathetically.

‘I apologise,’ Drummond replied, glad he could find his voice, considering. _Naked. Bottom. Sweaty. Skin._ ‘I, uh, the train was awfully late.’

‘No wonder, in this ghastly weather!’

‘Yes,’ the Earl added to the small talk, ‘Billy Asgard simply refused to show up and when we’ve made his favourite dessert… He phoned earlier. Apparently, his driveway is under construction and he would have sooner reached his gates on a sleigh than his car.’

‘He could always have ridden a horse,’ Mr Branson joked.

‘Did anyone mention riding?’ someone said, joining their circle, cocktail in hand, and Drummond gulped.

The man he was facing was the most gorgeous creature he had ever seen. His heart leapt—he had not even drunk a drop of the many, most exciting-looking cocktails handed around, but he suddenly felt quite dizzy for it. This man had the most earnest blue eyes, fair skin and… fair hair… the only man with such golden hair in the room, indeed.

It must have been him. Him… who?

‘May I introduce Lord Alfred Paget?’ Cora went ahead, doing her duty marvellously smoothly. ‘This is Mr Edward Drummond.’

‘Ah, Baldwin’s secretary,’ Lord Alfred said with recognition in his velvety voice. ‘I’ve been dying to meet you. Lady Rose has sung your praises all season long, as has my father and the Duke and everyone you’ve ever met and charmed.’

‘Lady Rose is too kind.’

‘That, and very mischievous. She never said how handsome you were.’

‘I’m not…’

‘Oho!’ the Dowager Countess, Violet, squeaked upon joining their circle and setting eyes on Drummond. ‘Is it suitable for film stars to dine at Downton now?’

Edward was mortified, though everyone enjoyed this.

‘Oh, Aunt Violet,’ Lady Rose came up, with her own colourful cocktail in hand and the sparkliest headwear of the latest fashion. ‘He is not a film star, though he looks it.’

‘Looks more like a sportsman to me!’ Mary whispered to Edith a little way away in a rare moment of agreement. Mr Drummond was a remarkably good-looking man, no one could deny that. Lord Alfred certainly did not.

‘He is Mr Edward Drummond, the PM’s Private Secretary, Lady Grantham,’ Alfred explained to Violet. ‘He has been much praised in the House of Lords of late. A promising young man, remember his name. He shall go on to make a difference in the world!’

Drummond nearly doubted himself—this man was as perfect and unsuspicious as a new-born angel. But it must have been him that Drummond had seen with that footman…

…who had just appeared from the dining room, his handsome face set in an expressionless way as he stood at attention, impeccably at their service.

‘Dinner is served, your lordship,’ he announced, almost droning from boredom.

Drummond searched for signs of passion between him and Lord Alfred, but Lord Alfred had eyes for no one but Drummond. God, he went as red as the carpet below his fidgeting feet.

‘When did you get in, Mr Drummond?’ the lord asked, leaning close for privacy, as soon as the crowd went to line up to go into dinner in pairs.

‘Quite late, in fact,’ Drummond replied, feeling most peculiar in such proximity to this beautiful man.

‘And would not your bedroom happen to be at the very end of the men’s corridor?’

‘Ah! Mr Drummond!’ Lady Mary came up to them, her brown eyes feasting on him as if he had been the dinner himself. ‘Glad you made it! Let us go in together, shall we?’

Lord Alfred smiled politely as Drummond had no choice but to offer his arm to the heiress of this estate and turn his back on him as they walked into the dining room.

What he didn’t know is that Lord Alfred had had about three of that cocktail in his hand because he had been so frightened about having been seen. By whom? That was the question. He had not heard the door open but he had heard it slam shut. He had only caught a glimpse of brown curls through the keyhole. The footman with whom he had been having a spot of fun noticed nothing he was too busy enjoying his lordship. How careless! Lord Alfred wasn’t so. He quickly finished what he was doing, ordered the footman or underbutler or whatever to leave, sorted himself out and went down to dinner, wondering which guest he had to strike a deal with to buy their silence. As the minutes passed and he made rounds after rounds of small talk, he felt he was in a warped sort of crime novel by Agatha Christie!

And at last, judging by that blush on his flustered face, he found just the man. Edward Drummond. And his heart sank.

Lord Alfred had known he would have to think carefully how to ensure his own safety, whoever it was that had seen him with the servant, but he didn’t expect it to be the Prime Minister’s right-hand man. Nor did he expect him to be this gorgeous. Drummond was like a Greek statue come alive!

He put down the cocktail on a passing footman’s tray and walked Mrs Crawley into dinner—just to avoid that dull Lady Edith who was eyeing him for company now that Lady Mary had got to Drummond first.

He found he was sitting opposite Drummond, right across the splendidly laid table. Funny, Alfred had secretly been so agitated beforehand but there were quite a few amusing moments throughout the dinner.

The underbutler, Barrow, Alfred was glad to see could dissemble impeccably. He would have done the same, but he wished to bring Drummond to a blush again so he whispered “Delicious!” to Barrow while he held a plate of oysters for him. Barrow bit back a smug smirk and moved on around the table. When he reached Drummond, the poor guy was so flustered and clumsy at making accidental eye-contact with Lord Alfred that he dropped the tongs on the tray with a loud clatter. How the butler’s eyebrows furrowed! Alfred was thankful to be seated next to Rose. They could communicate without words in such situations.

‘Look at the ladies,’ Rose told him quietly, sniggering. ‘I daresay even Aunt Violet wishes she was twenty again just to dance with Mr Drummond later.’

Alfred smirked behind his red wine. ‘And you? Do you want to dance with him?’

‘I have danced with him enough to know he is not for me.’

‘Why not? He looks a dream!’

‘But he is as dull as a pen,’ she scoffed.

‘Oh, yes, you, and your men.’

‘Not only men.’

Alfred nearly chocked on his pinot noir.

‘I don’t know Mr Drummond from my ball,’ Rose confessed. ‘Not originally… you see, his sister used to visit us in Scotland. She wears the trousers in the family if you know what I mean.’

‘You saucy minx,’ Alfred tutted, displeased she’d kept this secret from him thus far. ‘One day you’ll have to pick someone your parents accept, you know.’

‘One day. Not today.’

Alfred laughed.

‘Besides,’ she said, leaning yet closer for secrecy. ‘Something tells me Mr Drummond would rather like a spin with you than me.’

Alfred cocked an eyebrow.

‘Rose, darling, don’t whisper in company,’ Violet warned her, smiling pleasantly for the sake of appearances.

It was time to turn anyway, and Alfred had to entertain Lady Cora Grantham until she opened chatter across the table for all.

‘I was going to ask: did you get in alright, Drummond?’ Lord Alfred addressed him during dessert. ‘At this late hour and with this weather.’

‘I did, thank you,’ Drummond muttered curtly.

‘You found your room alright?’ Alfred pushed more.

‘I hardly think anyone’s interested in how I found my room,’ Drummond said with a meaningful look.

Alfred was now sure it was Drummond that saw him having sex with Barrow. Good. Now he could figure out a way to handle him. And if Rose was right, it would not hurt to flirt a little.

‘Are you really that handsome?’ Violet pondered aloud, staring because she could.

‘Oh, Aunt Violet,’ Rose laughed uncomfortably. ‘He is more than just a pretty face. Legend has it, Mr Drummond jumped in front of a bullet to save his general and lived to tell the tale!’

This was greeted by sighs of astonishment and admiration, particularly from the ladies around the table, and a good deal of reminiscence about the war. Sensing her guest was feeling the strain of being bombarded with questions, Cora suggested the ladies go to the salon now. The men could break out the cigar and talk serious issues, such as politics. Lots and lots and lots of politics.

Though Alfred was bored at first, Drummond made everything sound so interesting. He was articulate and in his element when discussing current affairs, domestic and foreign. He had seemed a bumbling fool beforehand, but Alfred realised that was only his shock. It was clear that this young man was honourable, knowledgeable, ambitious, and of sound morals.

 _Oh, no_ , Alfred lamented to himself. _Morals. Why couldn’t have Lady Mary walked in on him?!_

Soon, the men joined the ladies in the green salon. Alfred avoided having to make small talk with Lady Edith by interrogating Rose about her dalliances with Charlotte Drummond. He also wondered how to get the present Edward Drummond alone to discuss the incident and ensure he kept his kissable mouth shut. Alas, when the party seemed to be breaking up, Drummond wanted to avoid having to return to the end of the men’s corridor at the same time as Lord Alfred Paget at all costs.

‘I’ve only just poured a glass of port. I’ll finish it before going up,’ he said, staying behind.

Alfred turned right on his heels and marched back from the doorway.

‘That sounds like a marvellous idea,’ he said most agreeably. ‘Anyone else care to stay?’

No one took up that offer. Cora made sure to usher out all the remaining ladies, and the gents were too tired.

‘Shall I wait up for your lordship?’ Barrow asked discreetly, hoping.

‘Alas, I believe I can get myself into bed alone, thank you,’ Lord Alfred replied, disappointing the underbutler but he needed to take care of this. ‘In fact, shoo, everyone. We’ll not be more than five minutes in here. We’ll turn off the lights.’

The butler pulled a disapproving face but obeyed his lordship’s wishes. The door was closed on them. Privacy, at last.

‘Care to pour me one, too, Drummond?’ Alfred asked and Drummond had no choice but to comply. ‘Thank you,’ he said in a velvety, low voice.

They sat in armchairs by the fire. Drummond moved to sit up right away.

‘Perhaps I should go up, too…’

‘Nonsense, you’ve just poured yourself a glass. It would be a pity to waste it.’

Drummond stayed in the armchair.

‘Such a shame no one wanted to join us,’ Alfred said, meaning the exact opposite.

‘What are we going to talk about?’ Drummond asked, his intonation implying quite strongly that he was aware of the matter they had to discuss.

‘How much?’

‘Sorry?’

‘You are an affluent man, Drummond. As far as I have learnt from this evening, your intelligence and looks surpass even your sizeable wealth, not to mention your bravery and good character. Alas, you come from business, so I must ask. How much, whether in bank notes or in kind, is the price of your silence?’

‘My silence?’

‘Let’s not pretend you didn’t see me,’ Alfred said seriously.

Drummond was indeed avoiding his eyes. Only because he felt a hot flush at the memory of Lord Alfred’s naked body. However, his posture, though caused by unmentionable feelings stirred in him, gave Lord Alfred reason to fear he was dealing with a goodie two shoes of a chap, who would be difficult to deter from reporting him.

‘I understand you are a man of law,’ Alfred said, trying to find a way to ease him up.

Drummond nodded, uncomfortable in his stiff collar and that wasn’t the only thing stiff on him.

‘Ask yourself, what good would it do to make a big deal out of a little indiscretion—’

‘An indiscretion?’ Drummond asked, his earnest, brown eyes fixed on Lord Alfred now. ‘You were making love to that man, five minutes before dinner!’

‘Making love? Drummond… it was nothing more than a bit of fun. Nothing of importance. I’m sure you understand, you’ve been in the trenches.’ Something flashed across those brown eyes. ‘Feigns I am wrong, forgive me, I meant no offence.’

‘No, I… I just… I have never… gone… well, not quite so far…’ Drummond stuttered, and his eyes grew so wide and frightened. His hand shot to his mouth. Why did he have to blab now!? He chugged his port in one big gulp and stood. ‘I, uh, I thank you for your offer but it is misguided and unnecessary. I shall never mention anything about this to anyone. Anyone. I don’t need your money, only your own discretion. G-goodnight, Lord Alfred.’

‘Wait, Drummond!’ Alfred called after him before he could leave the salon. His heart was beating far more quickly than whilst having _fun_ with the odd soldier or footman. So Rose was right. What a relief! And luck… ‘I meant what I said. How much? You have my full discretion, but I’d like to do something to smoothen this awkwardness before we part. You have left a splendid impression on me. I’d hate for you to leave Downton thinking ill of me. How about a ride? No, that wouldn’t do, not after this rain. How about a ride in my car? I’ll get the chauffeur to ready it by ten. How does that sound?’

‘Well, I… I ought to be on the train by that time.’

‘Please. I only mean to remedy the offence I have caused, man to man.’

‘I’m not offended.’

‘Shock, then. You _were_ shocked…’ Lord Alfred teased him, trying not to smile at Drummond’s adorable flusteredness. ‘Let me make it up to you. Just a friendly spin around the estate in my car. It’s a Rolls Royce convertible. Please. We can reminisce some more about our war years and you can tell me all about your sister’s African adventures.’

‘How do you know my sister?’

‘Lady Rose is closely acquainted with her. She sounds quite a woman.’

Drummond really, really, really didn’t want to say no. And it showed.

Lord Alfred smiled, without artifice.

‘I am willing to compromise. Let me take you out before your train. When does it leave?’

‘A little after nine.’

‘Good. Provided it doesn’t rain like mad, I’ll be outside at seven. If you show up, I shall be a happy man. It’s up to you, sir.’

He put down his glass, swept closely past Drummond, and went upstairs with much bigger feelings than he had felt in a long time.

CH2

Alfred dressed by himself in his boldly striped suit, adjusted his favourite bowtie in the mirror, and put on a fashionable boater hat for the occasion of the morning car ride. He was lucky to catch the chauffeur already up and about in the garage. It was a significantly less attractive man than Mr Branson—no doubt Grantham had chosen someone who would not seduce any of his daughters.

Talking of seduction, he began to worry Drummond wasn’t going to show up. It was past seven and he wondered whether to simply park his car back in the garage. A little belatedly though, but the chap showed up after all, sneaking out the front door like he was a naughty schoolboy.

He went red when Alfred told him so and tried to flatten his curls in the back.

‘I nearly overslept, I’m afraid,’ Drummond replied sheepishly and stepped over to the car. ‘Crikey, this is a swanky ride, I say!’

‘I’m glad it impresses you,’ Alfred flirted and urged Drummond to get in.

They were rolling down quaint country paths around the estate swimming in the emerging morning glow. There was not a drop of rain anymore.

‘I wish I could have tempted you to ride with me. Alas, we would have got terribly wet and muddy,’ Alfred said by way of small talk as his passenger was stiff with awkwardness around him. Was that a good sign? He was quite sure Drummond wouldn’t tell on him but could he be persuaded to notice Alfred? ‘Do you?’

‘Do I what?’

‘Ride.’

‘Oh!’ Drummond caught on, laughing at himself. ‘I do, in fact. Sorry, I am usually a terrific morning person.’

‘I can imagine. In your field, you have to be. Did you sleep well?’

‘Very well, thank you,’ Drummond politely replied even though he had barely slept a wink for thinking about Lord Alfred behind the door just opposite his own room. ‘Did you sleep well, Lord Alfred?’

‘Marvellously!’ Alfred replied, enjoying the breeze in his hair.

‘Downton is treating you well, I take it,’ Drummond said just as small talk but the accidental undertone brought a look of humour and outrage on his lordship’s face. ‘I mean, goodness, I didn’t mean—oh lord.’

Alfred laughed freely.

‘No need to be anxious around me, Drummond. I hope I do not unnerve you, at least. Given… what exactly? Feel free not to answer me, but I do envy any chap that got to see you in a uniform, let alone what’s underneath.’

Drummond was mortified. ‘I, uh… Golly…’

‘I was in the cavalry,’ Alfred volunteered, smiling. ‘As His Majesty’s Chief Equerry and Clerk Marshall, it was only natural I should command such a troop, though I daresay the age of the cavalry is over. This was an entirely new kind of war, don’t you agree? God help those poor devils who are haunted by shellshock. I don’t blame them—sometimes I wake thinking I am in the trenches, finding that the noise I heard was simply my Dalmatian, Diver, eager to be taken on a walk!’

Alfred gave a laugh but Drummond sensed the melancholy behind his words.

‘What were you?’

‘I was in the medical corps, actually.’

‘Were you? God, what a fine, brave man you are! Shielding your fellow men against the bullets… Firing a gun is easy in comparison.’

‘We both did our part.’

‘Indeed. We are the lucky ones. We have come back in one piece. Unlike poor Papa! He left his leg in South Africa.’

‘Oh, indeed, Lord Anglesey. I know him through the PM. We finalised the Matrimonial Clauses Act just last month with his input.’

‘You don’t disapprove of divorce, then?’

‘I disapprove of inequality between a husband and a wife. My sister would murder me if I said anything else, but then she chains herself to railings and smokes more than I do. I suppose we all have our scandalous relations that we cannot help but be proud of despite all reason. Such as you of your parents.’

‘I am! You talk well of them. I thought you were a Conservative?’

‘I am, and with all due respect, Lord Anglesey’s party may be a thing of the past with the emergence of Labour sooner than we like to think.’

‘Perhaps that’s a good thing,’ Alfred mused.

Drummond laughed a toothy, boyish laugh. Alfred felt something stir in his chest that had nothing to do with the breadth of this gorgeous man’s shoulders.

‘Never heard an aristocrat praise the working man’s party.’

‘Ah, that’s just it, Drummond. I don’t just think of working men. As you know Papa, and I, support the rights of all. Be that the Irish or women or the working class.’

‘Goodness, I might begin to suspect you for a communist spy.’

‘Now, now, you go too far!’ Alfred laughed heartily. ‘I am all for balanced privileges—such as the right of wives to divorce an adulterous husband as easily as the husband could, without the need to prove cruelty or negligence.’

‘Hear, hear.’

‘However, I am hardly in support of vandalism, which is the only word to describe what’s happening in Russia. When I think of my ancestors! In my grandpapa’s time, I’d have entertained the Russian Czar at Queen Victoria’s court! Can you imagine the splendour?’

‘I prefer electricity and modern plumbing. Not to mention modern medicine that’s helped me survive being shot. We have it better than them, I daresay.’

Alfred laughed. ‘Fair enough! Alas, perhaps those were simpler times. Not so monitored. I feel as if one cannot truly get lost anymore.’

‘Sneak away to break the law, you mean?’

‘You mustn’t think badly of me, that underbutler simply reminded me of someone. There was a captain in the navy.’

‘Was?’

‘Was, yes. Tall, dark hair, dark eyes. You know how it is. Like any fool for love, I was taken in by a comely uniform, and the man was an incorrigible flirt, and the things he did with his tongue…’

‘Oh!’ Drummond exclaimed, clutching his proverbial pearls.

‘What—you said you have known men during the war. Or are you an innocent?’

‘Innocent at talking about it, that’s for sure.’

‘Ah. You are not the only man who does but speaks not. Better than being all talk and no substance, I daresay. However, keeping it all to myself was the worst thing to do when the Captain died. I am glad to say my family accept me. Since the armistice, I have found it helps if one addresses their sentiments verbally. Something I read about psychoanalysis supports this. The talking cure, they call it.’

‘Are you a student of medical writings?’

‘Hardly. Poetry is much more my forte.’

‘ _Is it better to speak or die?_ ’ Drummond quoted, sweeping Alfred off his feet.

He turned to drive down a path lined with lush bushes.

‘I’m throwing a soirée for writers and artists next month in London. You should come if you’re interested. Dear Siegfried is sure to show.’

‘Siegfried as in Siegfried Sassoon? You’re friends?’

‘Acquaintances. Don’t mention Amiens to him, though. Or Mr Owen. It’s meant to be a party. Where were you posted, if I may inquire?’

‘At the Somme.’

‘Was that when you…’

Drummond’s hand shot to his middle, where his scar was under his chic, pinstriped suit.

‘Yes,’ he replied uncomfortably.

Alfred could see that unpleasant memories were clouding Drummond’s sunny morning. He pulled to a stop nowhere in particular on the hidden path.

‘Why are we stopping?’ Drummond asked, not knowing how to read Alfred’s mischievous grin.

‘Let’s swap sides,’ Alfred said, jumping out of his seat without opening the door.

‘But I…’

‘Go on, scoot over!’ Alfred urged him from the passenger side until Drummond slid over into the driver’s seat. ‘You know how to drive, don’t you?’

‘Not very well! I have a chauffeur in London.’

‘I’ll guide you.’

‘But it’s an exquisite car, I couldn’t…’

‘You need to stop fumbling and live a little, Drummond,’ Alfred insisted, laying his hand on Drummond’s thigh. ‘Foot on the pedal, please,’ he said, then took the alarmed chap’s hand, ‘Hand on the gear stick. After all, what have we survived the great war for if not to feel a rush, to let blood course through our veins, through every pore?’

How was Edward going to drive straight now?! He felt Lord Alfred’s breath on his neck and his touch made him wonder whether it was possible to drive with his legs crossed.

‘You do know how to drive, don’t you?’ Alfred asked, truly now.

‘Course, I… Yes, right,’ Drummond stammered and started the car. It ran much more smoothly than the medical supply van he used to drive across muddy fields in France. ‘Golly, this is fun,’ he said once he had got the hang of it.

‘See? Not so hard.’

_Hard. Buttocks. Naked. Sweaty._

‘AAAH!’

The reason why Lord Alfred yelped was because Drummond had pulled to a sharp stop! There were some sheep in the way slowly crossing the path and he had nearly hit them for musing about Lord Alfred’s unclad body. AGAIN.

‘Crikey, I’m sorry!’

‘No matter!’ Alfred laughed. ‘Well, you don’t get this in London!’

Drummond had buried his face in his hands, mortified, embarrassed, muddled.

‘Drummond? Is everything quite alright? I’m sorry for pushing you. I can give you a lift to the station if you’d prefer to leave. I just… I thought we could be friends.’

Drummond peaked and faced him honestly.

‘I have difficulty thinking of you as a friend after last night and because of where your hand is, Lord Alfred,’ Drummond confessed.

Alfred, who had placed a gentle hand on the chap’s thigh, behaved himself reluctantly.

‘I apologise. What a cad you must think I am! Some oily, careless, predatory…’

‘No!’ Drummond protested at once, so earnestly Alfred’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Not at all, quite the contrary!’

‘So you don’t think ill of me anymore?’

‘No! Not at all! Golly, if you knew how glad I am we’ve met! That’s just it, I’m afraid I have not been able to think about anything else but you since I first saw you.’

‘You liked what you saw?’ Alfred flirted smugly.

‘No, well, yes, of course, I, golly, but,’ Drummond headbutted the wheel, frightening the sheep by honking at them. ‘Look, Lord Alfred…’

‘Just Alfred, please.’

‘Alfred. I liked what I saw but I also like you for the conversation.’

‘Conversation.’

‘For your mannerisms, for your stories, your voice, your interests, yourself.’

Alfred smiled, flattered. ‘And this unnerves you because…’

‘Well, I really mustn’t. I am a man of law, as you said. Whatever was allowed on the frontlines mustn’t be given into here.’

‘Here? Or here?’ Alfred purred, scooting closer, and his hand travelled up Drummond’s thigh. ‘No one can see us here…’

‘Alfred…’ Drummond uttered shakily, his heart and mind battling.

Alfred’s lips were but an inch from Drummond’s.

‘Well, Mr Drummond? Are you prepared to be led into temptation?’

‘I think I am wholly unprepared to be led into temptation.’

Alfred giggled sweetly and made the move. Drummond gladly kissed him back. Until… THUMP—a sheep thought it would try to have a bite out of the car. How they laughed! A bit of honking and shooing and the road cleared ahead of them. They drove on and pulled up at the front doors in a jiffy.

Alfred found Barrow in his room when he got in. He had completely forgotten about him. Edward had cast a pink fog around him entirely. However, the underbutler was wearing a look he knew all too well.

‘No need to linger, Barrow,’ Alfred said, not unkindly but not encouragingly either. ‘I can sort myself out for breakfast.’

Barrow stepped closer, like a panther, smiling expectantly at Alfred.

‘Don’t you need my assistance, my lord?’ he cooed, hands wandering up to Alfred’s bowtie.

Alfred gently pried them off himself.

‘I’ll be alright from here, Barrow.’

‘Call me Thomas.’

‘Nnnno, I would rather not, if you don’t mind. I have to pack. Change of plans, I am leaving today.’

Hurt glinted in Barrow’s eyes.

‘But my lord,’ he said, raising Alfred’s hands to his lips to kiss. ‘What about me?’

Alfred slipped his hands out of Barrow’s grasp and began to get his things.

‘Look, not that I didn’t enjoy our time but let us enjoy it for what it was: a one-time event. God knows we both of us needed to let off some steam. Oh, my dear chap, don’t be so distraught,’ Alfred said, noticing Thomas began to tear up.

‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ Barrow retorted nastily.

‘What?’

‘I know about you now.’

‘And… how exactly would you blackmail me without any letters or other kind of proof?’ Alfred reasoned. ‘More importantly, the threat of blackmail doesn’t exactly woo me. It’s not very nice.’

Barrow was defeated by that point. He felt cursed. Once again, he thought he could hope. How long would his next stretch of wretched loneliness last this time? A month? A year? Forever?

‘Don’t wallow. I am not the man for you, you must know that,’ Alfred said to him kindly.

‘But I thought you liked me.’

‘Oh, I did very much, but I think you need someone to love you, my dear chap. That will not be me. I have had my heart broken too much. I don’t think I shall ever love again.’

‘Don’t say that, my lord…’

‘Don’t mind me, Barrow. I left my heart at the bottom of the sea. But I know just the man who would suit you.’

Alfred stopped to scribble down a note.

‘Daniel Wilson. My valet. Do send for him, please.’

‘But you are leaving today.’

‘I am driving Mr Drummond up to Scotland, but I shall be back in about a week or two on my way back to London. I’ll wire ahead. By the time I am here, I expect my valet to be at hand. Make sure he gets a warm welcome—believe you me, you two would have a cracking time together. You are just his type. Perhaps I shall be a couple of days “late” to return so you can get to know him properly,’ Alfred added with a wink. ‘Tell him you come with my recommendation. And may I pry just for a second more?’

‘My lord?’

‘Are you happy here, Barrow?’

‘My—my lord?!’

‘I have noticed the other servants are quite cold to you. That short blond one with the face of a film star particularly seems to keep his distance.’

‘Your lordship is very observant,’ Thomas said bitterly. Jimmy was still massively uncomfortable around Barrow for that kiss.

‘How would you like to work in London? I detect a Manchester accent there, am I correct? You should do well in a city.’

‘There’s more life there, certainly, but, my lord, I don’t understand.’

‘I need a butler. My staff is entirely sympathetic to men like us, they have safeguarded my discretion and privacy superbly over the years. But I need a new butler. The old one has developed a fancy to go to Italy. Some people… Is there anything worse than losing one’s butler?’

Barrow bit his tongue. He could think of a few things.

‘Anyway,’ Alfred continued. ‘Would Lord Grantham be terribly mad at me for stealing you away from Downton?’

The road trip to Scotland was heaven. The weather was warm and summery, and Edward stopped minding how his curly hair reacted to the wind, Alfred was so charming. He felt like the happiest of puppies hanging out of the window to lick the sweet air.

He was falling in love.

But then, aside from flashbacks to Alfred’s body, he also heard his voice ringing in his ear.

_“It was just a bit of fun… nothing of importance…’_

_“I left my heart at the bottom of the sea.”_

_“I don’t think I shall ever love again.”_

He hadn’t exactly eavesdropped… he was just lingering outside Alfred’s room in the hopes of going down to breakfast together.

Was this true? Even as Alfred was all laughs and giggles as they pulled up the driveway of Drummond’s castle and flirted endlessly with him, was he too broken to truly love? What if Edward was as much a fool as that underbutler to imagine Alfred was interested in more than a _bit of fun_?

‘Edward!’ Charlotte rejoiced at the sight of his favourite brother. ‘You’re here!’

‘Put that pipe out of my hair, you rascal, before my hair catches on fire!’ Edward said, laughing.

She let go of him and stuck the pipe back in her mouth.

‘Sorry, I forget what a dandy you are about your hair! How was the journey—oh? What’s this?’ she asked upon seeing the car more closely and Edward’s travelling companion.

‘This is Lord Alfred Paget, Charlotte.’

‘ _Enchenté_ ,’ Alfred said charmingly, offering his hand.

Charlotte readjusted her monocle.

‘Swanky ride,’ she said and shook Alfred’s hand so firmly he covertly massaged his knuckles. ‘Are you friends with my brother?’

‘We met at Downton,’ Edward explained.

There was no time for more details as Alfred suddenly shouted: ‘CECILIA!?’

A red-haired lady ran out of the castle, right at Alfred.

‘ALFRED!?’

‘CECILIA!!!???’

‘ALFREEEEED!!!’

They collided in an enormous hug, him spinning her around on the gravel.

‘IS IT REALLY YOU!?’ she screamed extatically.

‘IT’S BEEN AGES!!!’ he did as well. ‘LAST I HEARD YOU WERE PRANKING THE WHOLE OF LONDON WITH VIRGINIA—OH, YOU’VE GOT HEAVY!’

Cecilia begrudgingly got off him. ‘Well, of course, I have! The last time I saw you I was twelve!’

‘Not true, I saw you debut.’

‘Golly, you saw!?’

‘Correction: I saw you trip on Lady Sybil Crawley’s trail and fall over right in front of everyone.’

‘SHUT UP!’

‘Fell right over, face first on the marble…’

‘Shush.’

‘…ostrich feathers flying everywhere.’

‘I SAID stuff it and you must! I’m still older than you.’

‘By TWO WEEKS! Oh, you…’

Charlotte and Edward watched on, baffled.

‘Do you two know each other?’ Edward asked.

Apparently, they did. Cecilia Wyndham was Charlotte Drummond’s lady companion and roommate at their remote castle, both unmarried for some reason. Cecilia and Alfred were childhood friends going back a long time. They were both respective marquesses’ children, it is only natural they should have socialised together. The war had caused a rift but now was as good a time as any to catch up.

Edward was glad of this distraction. Every day his thoughts would be filled with joy and doubts about Alfred, who suddenly pervaded everything around him and every moment of his days. Alas, he was also worried about what on earth he was doing. Every night he debated whether or not to lock his bedroom door and decided for it… and every night he heard the doorknob tried by someone. Alfred.

They didn’t address it until there was no escape and they were on the open road back south, to Downton Abbey.

‘So… did you enjoy the trip?’ Alfred began in the middle of the road sometime during a midsummer sunset.

‘I did, rather,’ Edward replied, his nose in the map.

‘Did your sister approve of me?’

‘I’d say she did.’

‘Cecilia is still a lark.’

‘I’d say so, yes.’

‘Alright, Edward,’ Alfred huffed indignantly, tired of this game. ‘What happened?’

‘You took a wrong turn and we’re looking for our way back to the main road—’

‘Not that! You know what I mean!’

‘I’m sure I don’t…’

‘I thought you liked me. You know, that’s the impression I got when you reciprocated my kiss at Downton before we left.’

‘Must we discuss this now, I really want to get to a town by nightfall—’

‘We WILL discuss this right now!’ Alfred insisted. ‘When you invited me to your castle, I thought you meant we might spend some quality time together. You know, privately.’

Edward shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

‘If you’re not interested, just say so,’ Alfred said dejectedly.

‘I am, you know I adore you…’

‘You’ve a funny way of showing it. What is it? Something’s happened, I know it has.’

‘If you’re talking about sharing a bed, I’ve told you, the law…’

‘To hell with the law. You cared not a fig about it once we kissed. What is it then?’

‘I heard you with that servant.’

‘God, would you get over it, I wasn’t making love to him, it was just—’

‘I know, just a bit of fun!’ Edward retorted just as passionately this time. ‘I don’t mean hearing you or seeing you with him, not that. It’s what you told him in the morning. The way you brushed him off like a dirty shoe. And then that you left your heart in the sea, that you’ll never love again. Is that true, Alfred? If it is, what are you hoping to do with me? Is this also simply a bit of fun, a little dalliance, to you? Because it isn’t to me. I don’t go around having meaningless liaisons with servants. This is a big deal for me. I don’t want to be just another fool you bed.’

‘You’re not—’

‘What does it mean you’ll never love?’

Alfred was so worked up he teared up in a flash and stopped the car abruptly.

‘I don’t think we should stop here, we might reach Downton before dinner…’

‘To hell with Downton,’ Alfred spat in frustration. He barely met Edward’s eyes, clearly battling all sorts of emotions.

‘What happened to you, Alfred?’

‘Nothing you don’t know.’

‘You overestimate me. Please do explain because I don’t understand.’

Alfred sniffed and turned seriously to Edward.

‘I really loved that captain, alright? But he was a reckless fool. I used to be different. I never toyed with people. I admit, coming out of the loss of my love, and out of the war, I have been so constipated emotionally and wretched as regards matters of the heart, I did not know how to deal with it except by having fleeting encounters with all sorts of men.’

‘I thought the “talking cure” worked wonders.’

‘Oh, please, Freud is a quack. Nobody knows anything about this side of me. Well, now you do. The only thing that kept me from crying, drinking, or both at the same time was being with men. Gentlemen, footmen, horse guards, diplomats, my dentist—I really have to find a new one—my butler, who left for Italy to get away from me, my carelessness and indifference about his continued affection. I wasn’t interested in that as no one could compare. So, yes, I thought I would never love again. Until I met you.’

‘I heard you speak like that _after_ our ride.’

‘I suppose I still thought it was true, but as soon as I said those things to Barrow to shake him off, I realised I felt different already. Please believe me, Edward. When I think of others, I see the mess I’ve made of myself. When I think of you, I can feel hope in my heart.’

Alfred tentatively reached out to hold Edward’s hand.

‘Forgive me. You, someone as wholesome and unspoilt as you deserves so much better than the wreck I am.’

‘You are not a wreck, Alfred, my darling. Nor a mess, nor anything of the sort! You’re… Crikey, you make me speechless. I’m sorry I put you on the stand just now. It wasn’t fair of me.’

‘That’s alright,’ Alfred laughed through tears, squeezing Edward’s hand.

‘No, it isn’t. And I am not as wholesome as you think. Nor as exempt from wasting people’s affection.’

‘How so?’ Alfred asked as gently as possible. ‘I won’t judge.’

‘I was engaged once.’

‘To whom?’

‘The late Lady Florence Kerr. We met during the war. She was a nurse by necessity for I ended up convalescing at the Marquess of Lothian’s castle after I was shot. Most men are happy to leave that place, but I stayed on, as a medic, having had the training. I was put up in one of the upstairs bedrooms, and I was welcomed into the family long before I proposed. I’m not sure what I was thinking. She was so fond of me, it seemed almost impolite not to.’

‘She was a person not a second helping of cake, my darling,’ Alfred suggested half-humorously to hide how astonished he was.

‘I caved in to the pressure. I shouldn’t have but… the truth is, they counted on my money to save their estate. I still felt the helping instinct. I was mourning the loss of my friends in the army as well. I would have given my life to save a friend. I thought I could give my life to save Florence’s future. I suppose I also thought I ought to grow up and be a man, most of all to forget my past _indiscretions_. But I felt so guilty. I deserve none of the praise I am given! The sooner the big date loomed over the horizon, the more I missed the war. I missed it, just because I missed being with men. I was never as wild as you, Alfred, but it was nice to find comfort in one another’s arms. So far away from England, too… But there I was, about to get married in a month. That’s when she fell ill with the Spanish Flu.’

‘Golly,’ Alfred uttered, guessing the rest of the story.

‘Nobody knows I never loved her, not even a little. I cared deeply about her. But I knew I would never, uh… love her. She died holding my hand, thinking I loved her, me pretending, and shamefully feeling relief that I wouldn’t have to marry anymore.’

‘Understandable…’

‘Is it!? I should think it is unforgiveable!’

‘Not more unforgiveable than the lies I have spun and the hearts I have broken. At least you had the decency to pretend for the sake of her happiness.’

‘I’m worse for being dishonest.’

‘Let’s agree we are just as bad as each other.’

Edward meant to argue but they burst out laughing instead. Once they quietened, they enjoyed a calm lull in the conversation. They had got comfortable talking but being comfortable being silent with each other was another level of intimacy. Plus, they were still holding hands.

‘Perhaps it is lucky, then, that I saw you with Barrow. I’d never have known about you or dared to be honest with you,’ Edward said. ‘Strange but I’m glad we met this way. No pretences.’

Alfred smiled. Funny, but it was true.

‘I want you know, Edward, I am not pretending for you. Not even a little. I really like you. In fact, I am really, really, rather fond of you, in fact, I am… I might…’ Alfred was distracted by a sharp sliver of orange-yellow light hitting his eyes. The sunset was gorgeous ahead of the road. Edward’s breath hitched at the sight of this beautiful man, glowing golden like an angel, but not an angel but a man who was his. ‘These midsummer evenings are so enchanting, don’t you th—’

Alfred was cut off by Edward’s kiss. Alfred’s boater hat landed on the backseat. Whatever Edward had been holding back came out and his hands wandered places, prompting Alfred to suggest they put the roof over the car and visit the backseat themselves.

‘We should hurry back to Downton instead…’ Edward said, however.

‘Oh. Right,’ Alfred panted somewhat disappointedly.

‘…the beds will be much more comfortable there,’ Edward added.

Alfred’s smile returned. He started the engine and they were back at Downton Abbey in time for dinner. This time, however, they were the first to go upstairs.


End file.
